


Ever After

by cinderellasfella



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Anna-centric, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff and Angst, Frohana, Introspection, Movie Spoilers, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7158110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderellasfella/pseuds/cinderellasfella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful maiden, who was locked away from the world in a doorless tower …</p><p>                                                                                     *****</p><p>Anna's changing relationship with the fairy tales that kept her company as a child, and how they influenced her life over the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> My first flying leap (or stumbling hop-skip, depending) into AO3. Hope you won't be disappointed!  
> Dedicated to the lovely Anysia/bri-ecrit, who deserves nothing but lovely things in her life.

*****

_Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful maiden, who was locked away from the world in a doorless tower …_

*****

There is a special kind of magic that is entirely unique to fairy tales.

The idea that, no matter how bleak things may seem, no wish is too great for those of purest heart, that everything will turn out right for those who deserve it, and that miracles and adventures can befall any of us. And curled up in the royal library, reading of Briar Rose’s gentle, loving awakening for the umpteenth time, oh, how little Anna _wished_ that those same miracles and adventures would befall her.

(Not a very big miracle, mind you. Just a little one, enough that Mama and Papa would smile like they used to, and Elsa would finally open that hateful door and say ‘ _I DO want to build a snowman_ ’, and they could all have chocolate pudding with second helpings, and live happily ever after).

She dreamt of waking to find all the inhabitants of the castle (so silent and shadowy nowadays) frozen like stone, victims of a dastardly curse only she could reverse. She longed to do battle with fearsome dragons and soar above the clouds to far-off lands on the mighty beast’s back, to explore the fathoms below with mermaids and feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise up as their voices lifted together in harmony. And, as she grew _just_ tall enough to take down the books on some of the higher shelves, she began to dream of love that needed no words spoken, that transcended all boundaries, magical or otherwise. Of love that would right all wrongs, and would see laughter and happiness restored to those around her.

*****

_But she did not know what a wicked sort of beast the wolf was, and so she answered him, cheerily and without fear …_

*****

Pirates and highwaymen – Anna could certainly see the appeal in them. A free, restless spirit with rugged good looks and little care for the proprieties of royals, his wild nature soothed by the gentle stirrings of love in his heart. But when she dreamed, it was mostly in a prince’s arms that Anna spent her nights whirling around a phantom ballroom. A noble man, compassionate and true, who knew what it was to be separated from all by one’s duty. Who would sweep her off her feet, and see that she never had to feel unwanted for the rest of her blissful days.

For a while afterwards – not forever, for there will always be that light in her heart that refuses to see anything less than the best in people – but for a while, she found it a little hard to read some of her old favourites. She will always welcome that warm, familiar feeling that fills her as she reads of a slipper of glass fitting a cinder girl, her true beauty shining through dust and rags. Of young women travelling east of the sun and west of the moon in the name of an unshakeable love.

But with the memories of a hazy ballroom filled with laughter and starlight and _lies_ still fresh in her mind, of charming smiles and eyes full of understanding … of lying on the freezing library floor, clutching at her own cape of vivid hue, and circled by a wolf who no longer bothered to hide his teeth and whiskers, she thought it perhaps best that she ground herself in reality. Just for the time being.

*****

_Journey over, all is mended, and it’s not just for today …_

*****

Afterwards – after shrieking accusations of witchcraft, after trolls and talking snowmen and grumpy ice sellers … after the fjord – she knows that things are far from perfect, as they try to knit together and settle into some kind of unit. By this point in one of her old stories, the famous “happily ever after” would have drawn its veil over all proceedings, leaving all in the happy assumption that those who deserved to would spend their days in blissful contentment. But life is no fairy tale, Anna has learned the hard way. As with everything, there are difficult days.

Days when delicate snowflakes drift about Elsa’s temples, her fingers itching at her wrists to secure gloves that are no longer there, as she tries to attend to the needs of a kingdom and catch up on years of lost sisterhood all at once. When it seems that she’s in danger of slipping back behind that mask of impersonal coolness - the last thing Anna saw all those years ago before she first shut the door - believing that as Queen, it is her God-given duty to shoulder her burdens alone.

Days when she can tell just how fast Kristoff’s head is spinning as he tries to take in which knife and fork to use for which course. As he spends hour after hour in measurements for clothing that doesn’t fit the hard-won muscles of a life most of her class would sneer at. When he grooms Sven, and stares at the mountains with a slump in his shoulders and longing in his eyes, no doubt thinking of how easy things were before people (‘ _Or rather, one person_ ’ Anna would think dejectedly to herself) entered the simple equation of his life.

Nights when Anna wakes in a cold sweat (at best), a scream still raw in her throat (at worst), her mind full of swirling white snow, buffeting her about even as her limbs seem to grow heavier with each passing moment, the cold stealing its way down to her bones until they felt as brittle as glass. Of cruel eyes and a gleaming sword, bearing down on her sister, on _her_. Of her own scream of defiance and fear ringing in her ears, as the whiteness fills her eyes entirely until it turns to blackness …

But even the darkest of nights will give way to the dawn. And, after so many years, Anna finally knows that she is not alone, that she is loved, and cherished, and _happy_. She sees it every day, after all.

She knows it when her nightmares plague her, and she shuffles to either Kristoff or Elsa’s room (one will generally come to check with the other if they can’t find her in her own bed), and they hold her close. And she knows that these arms, whether they are lean, spindly and graceful, or brawny, unshakeable and rough, will never truly let her go if she needs them.

She knows it when Elsa has to travel by sea (dark, deep and treacherously unpredictable), and she lets Anna hug her goodbye just a little longer and more tightly than usual. And when she returns (and she _always_ does, she _always_ keeps that promise), the hug is returned just as fiercely as it was given.

She knows it when she takes Olaf and Sven for a lazy stroll through the royal gardens, with an extra-large bundle of carrots that has Sven practically swooning at her feet. As she picks flowers to replace Olaf’s coal buttons and weave him a crown, and he squeals with delight when the bees come flocking to him, beaming at her as if she’d hung the moon and stars for him alone.

She knows it when she tries to teach Kristoff how to waltz. Watches as a faint blush creeps across his cheeks every time he misses a turn, or treads on her feet. How it deepens with pleasure and contentment as she steps up on his feet, stealing a chaste kiss as she does so, and they spend the rest of the afternoon revolving on the spot, swaying gently all the while to a music only they can hear in that silent ballroom. And Anna knows that when she is ready to put a name to this feeling blooming in her heart, the same feeling she sees in Kristoff’s eyes, there will be no falsehood, no regret. No choirs of angels bursting into song, and no flowery declarations that will promise to outlive the stars themselves. Just her and him.

It’s a strange little family, and certainly not the life she’d envisioned growing up.

But as she sits in the parlour after dinner, watching Elsa laugh as Olaf and Sven playfully tussle for the little snowman’s carrot nose, curled up in Kristoff’s arms and reading of Briar Rose’s gentle, loving awakening for the umpteenth time, Anna knows she wouldn’t have it any other way.

*****

_And they all lived …_

*****

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3


End file.
